


Oh, Mama No, I Will.

by ASassyDog



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASassyDog/pseuds/ASassyDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pickles calls home one last time before he heads to California.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Mama No, I Will.

_This is where you come from,_  
_The anchor that you can’t leave behind._  
_Oh mama no, oh mama no._  
_Oh mama no I will._

-Vienna Teng, "Oh Mama No"

 

Pickles calls home one last time before he heads to California.

He calls his mother from a payphone three blocks from their house. When she answers, he has to take several moments to collect himself.  Then, quietly, “Hey, Mahm.”

She doesn’t say anything.  He imagines she’s composing herself there in the kitchen, pulling out a chair to sit in, to support her weight as she slumps down, shocked and relieved. He waits for anything, a gasp, a weak sob, something that might signify how much she’s worried about him.

"Pickles, honey, is that you?"

"Yeah, mahm, hey. How’re you doin’?"

"I’m - we’re okay. I mean, your father and Seth and I; we’re all doing great.  I mean, not great because you’re still not home, but as soon as you do come back, we will be."

Underneath her words he hears the truth.  His father, drunk and raging, feeling betrayed.  “Is dad still angry?”

Everything he needs to know is held in the sigh his mother lets out.  In his father’s study, TV throwing light and shadows into the otherwise dark room, Calvert’s been grumbling to himself while he sips whatever his poison of the day is.  The drunker he gets, the louder and more insistent his rantings become.  Eventually, he herds Molly into a corner to send his anger and rage somewhere outside of himself, where he won’t have to ponder it too hard, drink flooding his system.

If Pickles comes home now, he’ll never escape again. His father’s words will flay the skin from his back, and he will crawl, broken and defeated, into his mother’s arms, swallowing pulls of lukewarm beer when she isn’t looking. He knows this and she knows this, but she needs to put on a show for him, really. Needs him to think she’s still a good mother; needs the gossiping neighborhood ladies to say, “Well, poor Molly. At least she tried.”

So she says to him, “Come home,” but really means “stay there.”  And so he leaves.


End file.
